It's A BAMF
by TheMightyBeeBee
Summary: She wasn't pregnant. There was no way. She didn't care how many knowing looks her husband gave her, forty year-olds didn't have babies.
1. Chapter 1

**BeeBee: I have an unnatural love for baby!fics. BAMF baby!fics in particular, so I absolutely HAD to write this. If you're following my other story, Against All Odds, forgive me for the delay in new chapters. The plot bunnies have me at their mercy! They're evil, I tell you… **_**Evil**_**. To apologize, I've brought in Wash to present the disclaimer!**

**Wash: I have no intention of doing that.**

**BeeBee: Why?**

**Wash: You know damn well why.**

**BeeBee: If I knew, I wouldn't have asked, now would I?**

**Wash: (glares) I'm not presenting the disclaimer.**

**BeeBee: Not even if I say **_**please?**_

**Wash: ...**

**BeeBee: (sighs) She's kinda pissed at me over the whole thing with her and Lucas in AAO… I say she's overreacting, but oh well. I don't own Terra Nova or its characters-**

**Wash: (mutters) Thank **_**God**_**…**

**BeeBee: (devious grin) But if I **_**did**_**…**

**Wash: (reaches for pistol)**

**BeeBee: (running) ON WITH THE FIC!**

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><p>"What."<p>

It's not a question. She heard him perfectly well the first time, but the word flies out her mouth anyway as she stares at him in disbelief. The forkful of food she'd been getting ready to devour hangs limply in her hand.

"You're pregnant." He repeats, leaning back in his chair, hands folding over his stomach. Also not a question. More of a statement of fact, if anything. Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly), he's calm about his supposition… almost disturbingly so. Alicia puts down her fork, dinner suddenly losing its appeal, and mimics her husband's pose.

"And just how, _pray tell_, did you come to _that_ conclusion?" She asks, trying to keep the annoyance out of her tone. Not five minutes earlier, they'd been having a perfectly normal evening; enjoying their meal in silence, comfortable in each other's company, when he decided, out of the clear blue sky, to share his "discovery" with her. He shrugs coolly.

"You're showing all the signs." He says as if he were discussing the weather, "The fatigue-"

"I told you, my alarm didn't go off." She cuts him off, referring to her excuse for nearly sleeping through dawn patrol that morning. She deliberately neglects to mention the fact that she'd almost missed patrols several other times in the past two weeks and nearly fell asleep during the a meeting with the science team the day before. Nathaniel is well aware of this, but chooses to ignore it. He cocks his head to the side before continuing. "The nausea?"

"There was a bug going around." She justifies lamely with a shrug, referring to the flu that had been going around the colony a few weeks ago. She disregards the fact that she never gets sick. Again, he's aware of this, but says nothing, continues with his list as if she hadn't spoken.

"I think you've packed on a couple of pounds, too. Your face looks more-" She sends a hard kick to his shin under the table, and his sentence breaks off with a sharp hiss of breath, his face contorting to a grimace. "_Mood swings._" He mutters under his breath, reaching down to rub his sore shin, all the while keeping his eyes locked with hers.

She ignores the last one, glares at him and releases a huff of breath. "I'm on birth control, Nathaniel." She deflects, rolling her eyes and wanting more than anything to end the conversation and get back to her meal. He quirks a brow, "When'd you get your last shot?" He asks, resuming his earlier position, leaning back, hands resting on his midsection. Her brow furrows in thought for a moment. She'd gotten her last shot a week before their wedding…

Which had been six months ago.

The realization hits her like a bucket of ice water.

_Shit._

Either she takes too long to respond, or her surprise is reflected on her face (probably a combination of the two), because Nathaniel is giving her a knowing look, a self-satisfied smirk etched on his face. She doesn't know whether she wants to slap the grin off his face or kiss it off. "I've been through this before, Wash." He says, leaning forward slightly, "I think I know a pregnant lady when I see one."

She narrows her eyes and kicks at him again; he's prepared for it this time and quickly moves his leg and catches her bare foot with both hands. His expression fades from smug to tender as he rubs her ankle with one hand, holds her heel in the other. She feels her irritation slip away from her almost instantly.

Damn him.

The faintest of smiles graces Nathaniel's face as he watches the frown lines fade from her face. "I want you to go see Elizabeth tomorrow." He says, slowly working his hand up and down her calf. She knows he's doing it to get her pliant enough to agree, and damn her if it's not working. She fights to stay irritated as she feels her traitorous body begin to react to his attentions, the feel of his calloused hands on her soft skin sending deliciously slow ripples of pleasure throughout her being.

"No." Her irritation grows as the word comes out breathy. She bites her lip, fights for control over the flame of desire Nathaniel is fueling with every stroke of his fingers.

"C'mon Wash," He drawls, his voice low, as his hand makes its way back up her leg, "For me?" He delights in the way her eyes flutter as his hand reaches the back of her knee and firmly rubs a particularly sensitive patch skin there. She bites back a groan and swallows hard before she speaks again.

"There's no point." She protests weakly. Once again, the words come out huskier than she intended.

Damn him again.

"Hmm…" he hums in mock contemplation, leans to reach his hands even further up her leg. "Better safe than sorry, don't you think?" he murmurs, his eyes still locked on hers. She opens her mouth to protest further, but all that comes out is a high-pitched squeak as he squeezes the back of her thigh, a jolt of arousal shooting straight to her core. Her eyes flutter closed.

A soft moan escapes her, and she can't bring herself to give a damn this time, not when he's leaning over the table to ghost his lips over hers. The feel of his warm breath on her face has her tingling in anticipation for the sizzling kiss he's surely about to give her. When it doesn't come, she releases the breath she didn't know she'd been holding and cracks open an eye to peer at her husband.

The damnable smirk is back on his face.

It's there again when she staggers out of the infirmary the next morning, shocked speechless, and finds him standing outside, arms crossed in front of his chest. She says nothing, and doesn't need to. The emotions playing on her face (confusion, surprise, _fear_) tell him all he needs to know. He stays silent, but his smirk widens, and she's too shocked to feel even the faintest twinge of annoyance at his smugness.

Damn him to hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**BeeBee: Wash still isn't speaking to me, so here's Jim to present the disclaimer. Take it away, Jimmy Boy!**

**Jim: o.O _Jimmy Boy?_**

**BeeBee: Yes. Jimmy Boy. Now get to disclaimin'.**

**Jim: (shakes head) BeeBee doesn't own Terra Nova or its characters. Now, on with the fic!**

**BeeBee: (pouts) That's _my_ line…**

**Jim: (troll grin)**

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><p>For her, it doesn't really set in until the next morning.<p>

She's lying in bed while Nathaniel is off on dawn patrol. He'd convinced her to sleep in (the ways he used his fingers and tongue were nothing if not _persuasive_), and left her with a kiss and a promise to meet her at the Command Center later. Without the presence of her husband, she finds herself unable to fall back to sleep, and opts to lie in bed and sort through the mixed emotions that had been running about her mind since she staggered out the infirmary the day before.

She was pregnant.

With her and Nathaniel's child.

She should be overjoyed, as Elizabeth had been when she told her the news. _"Well, I have good news, Alicia. You're not sick."_ she had said, trying (and failing) to hold back the wide grin that threatened to break her professional façade, _"You, my friend, are pregnant!"_ The grinning doctor then pulled her into a hug, happily voicing her congratulations in her ear, completely oblivious to the shock and fear on the other woman's face. By the time she pulled away, though, Alicia had managed to regain her composure and plaster a smile onto her face.

She shouldn't have had to force the cheery expression; she should be happy, ecstatic even.

And yet, here she was, in bed, staring up at the ceiling, filled with dread and anxiety.

She was _pregnant._

"_How the hell did this happen?" _she'd mused aloud the day before. _"If you don't remember, I didn't do it right."_ Her husband had quipped, waggling his eyebrows, earning himself a glare. He shrugged and pulled her into his arms, pressing a feather light kiss to her forehead before continuing, _"Guess we just got lucky."_

_Lucky_ didn't begin to describe it.

For one, she was nearing forty, and her husband sixty. People their age didn't have babies.

"_Apparently, we do."_ Nathaniel had said with a smile, earning himself another glare, but their ages were the very least of her worries.

Her reproductive system had been severely damaged during her brush with death in Somalia. She'd been told that her chances of ever conceiving a child were slim to none, and her chances of being able to carry the fetus to term were nearly nonexistent. At the time, she didn't worry about it. Having a child wasn't something she'd ever really wanted, and she hadn't given any thought to becoming a mother until now; which led to her next concern…

She had no idea how to be a mother.

Hardened military women don't exactly scream "Mother of the Year," and she barely had any memories of her own mother, all she knew about her was that she's where she got her looks from and that she'd had died giving birth to her younger brother when she was four. He father perished soon after in the Army, and needless to say, being raised by her grandfather with both her older and younger brothers certainly didn't help her develop any motherly qualities.

She was absolutely _petrified_.

Alicia Washington, the woman who'd fought more battles than she could remember, killed men with her bare hands, cheated death twice, travelled 85 million years into the past and faced dinosaurs without so much as batting an eyelash was scared of a _fetus_.

She would've laughed at the ludicrousness of it if she hadn't been so anxious.

What if she couldn't love it enough? What if she screwed up the kid's life? What if she lost it? Could she stand to go through that pain?

She closed her eyes and sighed, tried to think happier thoughts.

She remembered the look on Elizabeth's face when she delivered the news. Even as she was explaining all of the complications, the need for extensive testing and checkups, and the problems that may arise in the later stages of her pregnancy, the smile on her face never waned. The mental picture had her own lips curving into a slight smile.

And then she remembered how Nathaniel beamed at her when they got home, even as she was having a meltdown. She'd been frantic, pacing a hole in the floor, muttering confusedly to no one in particular while he watched her from his place in the kitchen, an amused smile on his face.

"_I'm damn near _forty_,"_ she had said to herself, accentuating the last word with her hands flailing in the air, _"I'm too old for this."_ Nathaniel had then moved from the kitchen to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her, effectively stopping her pacing. _"Well, what's running a hole in the floor gonna do about it_?" He said to her as she relaxed into his embrace, letting out a sigh. He moved his hands to rest on her stomach, his fingers splaying out over it protectively. _"We're having a baby, old man."_ she muttered absentmindedly, still not able to wrap her mind around the concept. He chuckled and pulled her closer. _"Yeah,"_ he breathed, his tone just as dreamy, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, _"I guess we are."_

At the time, she'd been even antsier than she was now, but as she thought of her husband's smile, wider than it had been since their wedding day, the guarded hope and optimism clear as day on his face, she allowed herself to feel the same. The small smile on her face widens as she remembers the way Nathaniel had fussed over her, damn near force feeding her dinner the night before (she almost decked him for it, but she couldn't help but find it amusing now). He held her tighter than he ever had that night as they fell asleep, and the memory fills her with warmth, chasing her fears away for now, at least.

"I'm having a baby." She whispers into the empty room, smile still on her face.

For now, she's just fine with that.


	3. Chapter 3

**BeeBee: Two things, this chapter is notoriously short, and me and Wash have made up!**

**Wash: (growls)**

**BeeBee: Well... kinda. Since I've so graciously written this story so that Lucas is nowhere to be found and she's living in married, pregnant bliss with Commander Taylor she's not _as_ pissed at me anymore!**

**Wash: Still pissed though.**

**BeeBee: A minor technicality. I don't own Terra Nova. Now, on with the fic!**

**Wash: Why do you keep saying tha-**

**BeeBee: ON WITH THE FIC!**

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><p>She's 10 weeks along when Shannon figures it out.<p>

She's sitting at Nathaniel's desk, acting as Commander while he was OTG, with a plex in her hand when she hears footsteps racing up the stairs outside, followed by an _"Out of my way, Reynolds."_ before the door slams open and a half-crazed Jim Shannon appears at it. They lock eyes immediately, and he smiles fiendishly as he closes the door behind him and leans up against it.

This can't be good.

He points a finger at her.

"I know." He says simply. She quirks a brow at him when he doesn't elaborate.

He wags his finger at her before repeating himself. "Wash, I _know!"_

She puts the plex down and fixes her face in an annoyed scowl. "Shannon, what the hell are you talking about?"

"You know." He says, folding his arms in front of his chest.

Alicia clenches her fists, resisting the urge to throw something at the man. "I say again, what the hell are you talking about?" he opens his mouth to speak and she quickly adds, "More than two words, Shannon."

The impish grin on his face widens as he stalks toward the desk, wagging his finger again. "You've been going to see Elizabeth every week for the past two weeks, you don't hang at Boylan's anymore, Reynolds tells me you've stopped sparring with the soldiers, and-" he pauses when he reaches the desk, reaching out a hand to touch her cheek, "Your face is looking _a bit_ on the chubby side." She slaps his hand away with a growl, and he practically leaps back, hands up in surrender. The damned grin never leaves his face though, and she levels him with a glare.

"You _know_ what I'm talking about," he says before whispering his next words dramatically, "And I _know._"

Alicia had sworn Elizabeth to secrecy, and there was no doubt in her mind that the good doctor had kept her word, so she's a bit peeved that her irksome friend has figured out her secret. She's irritated, but she's not surprised. He is a cop, after all. She flops back into the chair, sighing and rubbing her brow in exasperation. "How'd you find out?" She asks without looking at him. He shrugs. "I'm a cop, Wash. Besides all of the other evidence, it's practically written all over your face. You've got the same 'scared shitless' look I had when Liz was pregnant with Josh."

Alicia rolls her eyes, even though she knows he can't see them, "Look Shannon, you've gotta keep quiet about this. Me and Nathaniel weren't planning on going public about it until I reached twelve weeks. I'm only ten weeks now, so we're not out of the woods just yet." She peeks from under her hand at his still grinning face, "I trust you'll be able to keep your damn mouth shut until we give the ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever you say." He says honestly.

A few beats of silence pass between them, her looking irritated, hiding her eyes beneath her hand again, and him staring at the desk, looking like the cat that caught the canary.

"Hmm… _Wash_ is having a _baby,_" he mutters just as the silence was beginning to get awkward, something akin to amazement in his tone. He brings his eyes up to her face again, his child-like grin still ever-present. "I'm gonna be an uncle!"

She rolls her eyes again, tries (and fails) to fight the smile that tugs at the corners of her lips.


	4. Chapter 4

**BeeBee: WOW! I got so many alerts/faves/reviews, it made my head spin. You guys are awesome. I squealed and flailed a little when I saw that Zoe6 reviewed. I was all "OMGEEZUS ZOE LIKES MY FIC!" XD That woman is my hero… And now ****I feel retarded for admitting that.**

**Wash: As you should.**

**BeeBee: -_- Where'd you come from?**

**Wash: You tell me. You're the one writing this damn thing.**

**BeeBee: Touché. Well, since you're here, would you mind presenting the disclaimer?**

**Wash: Not a chance. (walks away)**

**BeeBee: (sighs) I don't own Terra Nova or its characters. If I did, Wash would be a little more **_**cooperative**_**.**

**Wash: (from wherever the hell she is) Quit whining. Say your little catch phrase and get on with it already.**

**BeeBee: (sighs again) On with the fic.**

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><p>"No."<p>

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

"Wash, it's the best way to do it. Quick and painless."

A scoff, "_Hardly._"

True to her word, Alicia is 12 weeks along when they decide to go public with the news of her pregnancy (and, luckily for the two of them, Jim has proven himself fully capable of "keeping his damn mouth shut," and hasn't breathed a word to anyone).

What they can't decide on is _how_ they're going to do it.

In typical Nathaniel Taylor fashion, he wanted to assemble the colony and make the announcement from the balcony of the Command Center; And in Alicia's extreme dislike of being the center of attention, she wanted to simply give Shannon permission to run his mouth and "let the grapevine do its thing."

Needless to say, a battle of (ridiculously stubborn) wills ensued.

"Alicia-"

"No." She cuts him off without looking up from her task of chopping vegetables at the counter. She hears him huff an exasperated sigh from behind her and smirks at his frustration. _Welcome to my world,_ she thinks smugly.

"Why are you being so stubborn about this?" He asks tiredly, running a hand over his face.

An unladylike snort escapes her. "Pot, meet kettle."

He narrows his eyes at her (whether it's at her use of a 21st century idiom or her blatant avoidance of the question, she doesn't know). "Answer the question, Alicia."

"Because," she starts, putting the knife down on the cutting board and bracing her hands on the counter on either side of her, meeting his gaze for the first time since the conversation started, "I'd rather not spend my morning being bombarded by colonists and their… _affections._" She says the last word cautiously, as if simply breathing the word will bring a herd of huggy colonists to their front door.

A ghost of a mischievous smile lights up Nathaniel's face. _"_Affections_?"_ he asks, arching a brow. At her slow nod, he continues, making his way around the island to stand beside her, "You mean to tell me that _my wife_, Alicia Washington-_Taylor_," He says his surname with no small amount of pride, "Is afraid of a few _hugs_?"

She crosses her arms defensively, scowling at him. "I'm not a hug person."

"You hug me."

"Yes. _You_. Not the whole damn colony."

He snickers. "You hug Shannon."

"That was _one_ time." She sneers, pointing a finger at him, fighting the embarrassed blush that rose on her cheeks at the memory- Jim had treated her to drinks to ease her nerves one evening when Nathaniel was overdue coming home from an OTG mission; one bottle of Terra Novan scotch, one hug, and a drunken _I love you_ and she was branded for life. Shannon had been downright insufferable for months.

Wash rolls her eyes at Nathaniel's amused expression. "We're getting off topic." She puts a hand on her hip and steels him with a questioning look, "How are we going to do this?"

He looks thoughtful for a few moments before speaking.

"How about we compromise?"

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><p>And compromise, they did.<p>

They agreed on 3 things.

First, give Jim (and Elizabeth, for that matter) permission to spread the news.

Second, Nathaniel reserved the right to tell three- _and only three_, she reminded him- people, and give them permission to do the same.

Third, Alicia reserved the right to defend herself against unwanted huggers.

He got to run his mouth, and Alicia got to evade all unnecessary hugging.

Well… _almost_.

Unsurprisingly, Nathaniel chose to tell Guz, Reynolds, and Reilly without hesitation. She'd decided not to be present when he told them (also unsurprising), but was pleasantly puzzled to find the three of them sitting on her porch that evening after her shift. The three of them shot up and stood at attention as she approached her and Nathaniel's home.

"At ease, soldiers." She commanded as she stood in front of them. She took note of their happy expressions as they relaxed their rigid postures. "What's up?"

Reynolds smiled, looking from her to Guz, then Reilly, then back at her. "Commander Taylor told us the news." He started, all his military discipline fading away as his smile grew toothier by the second.

Guzman had a better time schooling his expression; he looked happy, but not as goofy as the young Corporal. "We wanted to congratulate you in person." He said. Reilly stayed silent, but smiled and nodded her agreement.

Wash smiled back at her old friend and two 'kids,' absentmindedly bringing a hand down to her stomach. "Thank you."

The trio nodded, still smiling.

"We're really happy for you ma'am." Reilly said honestly, her grin about as wide and toothy as Reynolds'.

The four of them stood there mutely, all smiles, for a few moments before the silence began to get awkward. Wash cleared her throat. "Was there anything else you wanted?" she asked.

Reynolds smile suddenly turned sheepish as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops. Guz and Reilly's expressions grew slightly nervous as well, the color of their boots suddenly becoming the most interesting thing in the world.

Wash knew what was coming.

Reynolds regarded her cautiously before speaking, "Permission to hug you, ma'am?"

She huffed out a small laugh and shook her head at the uneasy looks they were giving her. She held her arms out, a sheepish smile of her own on her face.

"Granted."


	5. Chapter 5

**THIS. This is pure, sugary, cavity-inducing sweetness. Like seriously. I think I need a filling or two just from writing it. I have a feeling Wash isn't going to like the fact that I'm exposing her sensitive (girly) side, so I better hurry up and wrap up this author's note before she shows up. And I FINALLY made myself a twitter! So if you've got any story suggestions or you feel like reading about my fangirling or my love of Bruce Lee and Mozart, follow me TheMightyBeeBee. I follow back :)**

OH! And I don't own Terra Nova. Now, on with the fic!

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><p>She realizes she's showing two weeks later.<p>

Her day had been longer than most, with Nathaniel being OTG and her having to endure her weekly visit with Elizabeth and a day in the Command Center with Shannon (who refused to stop calling himself Uncle Jim whenever he was around her) without him.

Fortunately for her, her husband was due back that night, and the walk from the Command Center to her home hadn't been slowed down by any congratulating colonists (the amount of hugs she's received has gone down considerably since the week before, when a certain heavyset bar owner got an elbow to the gut for getting a tad too friendly with his well wishes).

Alicia stepped into her and Nathaniel's quarters and beelined it to the bathroom, planning on showering before she began her ritual of waiting for him to come home; she could never sleep when he was outside the gates anyway.

Upon entering the bathroom, she immediately goes to the shower and turns the hot water to full blast, and then moves to undress while the water heats up. A heavy sigh escapes her as she takes off her jacket, feeling every bit of the day's aggravation. She removes her boots and socks quickly, almost itching to get under the hot spray and allow it to sooth away her tension.

She unbuckles her belt and smirks inwardly at the loose fit of her fatigues. She'd taken to wearing her pants a few sizes larger since finding out about her pregnancy; there was no way she was going to wake up one morning and find herself fighting to get her pants on. She'd be damned if she gave Nathaniel the pleasure of witnessing _that_ particular scenario. She pulls off her fatigues, her panties in tow, and kicks them over to rest with her boots.

She tugs her tank over her head and tosses it onto the pile as well, thankful that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her breasts had grown extremely tender over the past few weeks and were painfully sensitive, so her bras lay forgotten in her dresser, and her breasts were deemed off limits until further notice, much to Nathaniel's dismay.

She reaches up to release her hair from its ponytail and sighs again, closing her eyes, when she does; she shakes her head and allows her black tresses to fall over her back and shoulders.

She moves to place her hair tie on the counter, looks up and finds herself staring at herself in the mirror, captivated.

It's nothing she hasn't done before, she's often found herself staring at her reflection, fingers brushing over the three tell-tale scars on her torso, reliving Somalia through her mind's eye with a grim feeling of reverence over the fact that she was still alive, but that certainly isn't what's caught her interest this time.

The scars are still there, but it's the small bump in her abdomen that has her rooted to the tiles beneath her feet, her mouth slightly agape.

One of her hands automatically moves down to rest over her womb, and she _swears_ she can feel a faint flutter of life beneath her fingers.

Her child has existed for 17 weeks, she's known of its existence for the past 7, and the colony has known for the past 2. She's seen images of her child on sonograms every week for 7 weeks, and she's heard it's heartbeat with her own two ears, but nothing compares to _this_.

Physical evidence of the child growing inside her, of the life she and Nathaniel created, that she can see and touch with her own two hands instead of through a monitor or a sonogram printout makes it all feel so much more concrete.

It feels _real_ now.

Her fingertips lightly brush over the scar of the wound that was supposed to render her infertile, and she laughs to herself at the irony. Of course the child of Alicia Washington and Nathaniel Taylor would be the one to defy odds and logistics with its conception alone.

She expects her fears from the beginning to come crashing down on her again, to remind her of all the reasons why she can't do this, why she's crazy for ever entertaining the possibility that she could, but they don't come.

After the initial shock wears off, all she feels is joy; an all-encompassing feeling of happiness that sets her smiling a wide, watery, un-Wash like smile, tears stinging behind her eyes.

She's perfectly aware that this is not like her at all, standing naked in front of a mirror, grinning like mad with tears in her eyes, but she blames it on the hormones and gives herself permission to enjoy the moment.

Alicia's so wrapped up in her euphoria that she doesn't hear her front door open, nor does she hear the booted footsteps approaching the bathroom. Only when she sees a figure leaning in the doorway in the corner of her eye does she notice her husband's presence.

She turns to look at him, finds him staring at her with folded arms and smiling eyes, and nearly blushes, instantly taming her smile. Being bare to his gaze is nothing new, but her almost goofy grin and misty eyes are new to both of them. She feels more than a little embarrassed at being caught looking so blissfully _girly_.

"You're home early." She starts softly, not moving from her place in front of the mirror but automatically eyeing him from head to toe, checking for any visible injuries. She mentally sighs in relief when she finds none.

Nathaniel shrugs before he answers, "We got the job done early." He pushes himself off the doorframe and takes quick, fluid strides toward her. She feels his eyes roving over her, but there's no hunger in his gaze. Desire, yes, but not the heat she usually finds there when she's in such a state of undress.

"What?" She questions after a few moments of being under his silent scrutiny.

His eyes land on hers and fix themselves there, a faint smile tugging at his lips, adoration clear in his eyes.

"You're glowing, Wash." His voice is soft, almost a whisper, and that warm, fuzzy feeling floods her insides again at the words. She welcomes it this time and allows the goofy grin to slowly return to her face without a fight.

He pulls her into his arms, her completely naked, him still fully clothed and covered in filth, and she lets him; buries her face into the crook of his neck before he can see her eyes growing misty again.

She's completely aware of the fact that this is out of character for her, that under normal circumstances, she'd roll her eyes at how cheesiness of his words and order him to shower before he made any attempts to embrace her. She knows that the grin on her face and tears in her eyes are completely out of the ordinary, and she should at least make an attempt to school her expression into something less disgustingly girly.

But she doesn't. She clings to her husband, relishes in the feeling of his strong arms around her smaller frame, despite the grime he's covered in. Allows the damnable smile to stay on her face, and closes her eyes against the happy tears that are threatening to spill.

Again, she blames it on the hormones and allows herself to enjoy the moment.


	6. Chapter 6

The occasion isn't quite as joyous when _Shannon_ realizes she's showing.

She's stuck in the Command Center with him again, going over requisition forms. Nathaniel had gone off to one of the towers speak with Guz about something she was too aggravated to remember at the moment. It felt like there were a thousand needles piercing her spine, and everything below her waist was aching. Not to mention the fact that she could smell everything within a 10 yard radius of wherever she went, which had her feeling slightly nauseated all day long.

Needless to say, she wasn't in the best of moods.

And Jim, competely unaware of her distress, was sitting across from her, holding a form in one hand and clicking a pen in the other.

_Click click._

Her jaw clenches at the sound, and her eyes slowly drift from the application she'd been looking over to fixate on the man sitting across the table. Her irritation flares as she takes in his relaxed demeanor; he's either really clueless or he's really trying to piss her off.

Her irritated mind decides it's the latter and she sends him a glare he can't see.

_Click click._

Her jaw clenches again, but she forces herself to calm down (slightly), takes a deep breath to soothe her irritation before returning her gaze to the form in her hand.

It's quiet for a few moments, and she feels some of her annoyance fade in the silence. And then…

_Click click._

She visibly flinches this time and slowly, _very_ slowly, places the paper she'd been holding on the table. She takes another deep breath before she speaks (it does nothing this time, her voice comes out low and dangerous anyway).

"_Shannon._" She grits out slowly. His eyes snap up to meet hers almost instantly.

"Yeah, Wash?" he replies, eyebrows raised, a faint smile on his face, completely oblivious to the risk he's taking by being so damn _happy_.

"Stop it." Her narrowed eyes are fixed on the pen in his hand.

He frowns in confusion. "Stop what?" He follows the path of her eyes and his eyebrows go back up in realization. "Oh_." _His expression turns sheepish as he puts the pen down, "Sorry."

Wash doesn't reply, simply picks up the form and focuses her attention on it again. The room grows silent once more, both of them back to their previous tasks.

5 minutes pass before she realizes she's not really reading it, just skimming over the maze of words that all seem to blend together. She huffs, frustrated with her inability to get anything done, and sets the form down again. She stands and closes her eyes, raises her arms over her head in a stretch, sighing in relief at the way her back pops as it bends, taking some of her discomfort with it.

"Wash…" Jim calls cautiously. Wash cracks open an eye to look at him, finds him staring at her midsection, a childishly puzzled frown on his face. She looks down to find that her tank has ridden up a little from her stretching, exposing the telltale bump in her stomach.

Of _course._

Jim brings his eyes up to meet hers and points an almost accusatory finger at her stomach. "You have a baby bump." He says matter-of-factly. Wash rolls her eyes at him and drops her arms. "You don't say?" She exclaimed sarcastically, placing one hand on her stomach, "I was beginning to wonder what this thing was."

"Can I touch it?" He asks with childlike excitement.

She gives him an incredulous look, "No."

Jim stands, reaches a hand out to touch her stomach anyway, "C'mon Wash-"

"Keep your paws off my kid, Shannon." She says, slapping his hand away and taking a step back. He drops his hand and pouts, genuinely disappointed, earning an eye roll and a head shake from the irritated woman in front of him. How a man this juvenile managed to be a cop, she would never know.

She turns and walks away from him, working her stiff legs, and stops when she hears him snickering behind her. Her irritation flares again. She turns to him and braces a hand on her hip. "Something funny?"

His snickers turn into a full blown laugh, leaving him unable to get any words out. Wash stares at him through narrowed eyes, wondering why she hasn't hit him yet. He tames his laughter to a chuckle, righting himself before speaking, "Just trying to figure out how I didn't notice that before." She quirks a brow, silently ordering him to explain. He clears his throat, getting his laugh out of his system, "You seem to have a bit more _sway_ in your step than usual, Wash." He leans forward, as if telling her a secret, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was a full-blown _waddle_."

Her eyes narrow into slits.

"I do _not_ waddle."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"No I _don't_."

"Yes you _do_."

Wash growls at him. By this point, she's too incensed to give a damn whether she waddles or not, she just wants him to shut the hell up and leave her in her achy, nauseated misery. Her fists are clenching at her sides, and it's taking every ounce of military control in her body to keep her from strangling the insufferable man in front of her.

And Shannon, giddy as he is with his discovery, is still blissfully unaware of how much danger he's in.

"I'm gonna call it the Wash Waddle." He says with another chuckle.

Without another thought, she pounces.

* * *

><p>Nathaniel Taylor walks through the door not ten seconds later.<p>

Sadly, he can't say he's surprised by what he sees when he does.

His pregnant wife has Jim Shannon up against a wall, one hand fisted in his collar, her other fist cocked back and ready to strike him, and Shannon is shrunken in a full-body wince, hands up defensively, eyes shut tight. They're frozen in place, Shannon by fear, Wash by surprise. Her lips are pressed into a firm line, her eyes fixed on him, wild with anger and irritation at being interrupted. At the moment, she looks every bit like a deer caught in headlights.

A very angry deer.

"Shannon…" He calls carefully, keeping his eyes locked with Alicia's. He doesn't know what happened, but he knows its Jim's fault (even if it isn't).

Jim, realizing the blow he'd been preparing for hadn't come, opens an eye to peer at him. The relief in his eyes is humorously evident, but he doesn't move a muscle. "Commander?" He answers.

"What's this about?" Taylor asks, still not looking at him.

"Um…" Jim starts gently, as if saying it slowly will prevent Wash from going into another fit of rage, "Your wife _waddles_."

Nathaniel gives him an incredulous look, tries (and fails) to keep the amusement out of his tone, "She _waddles_?"

"Like a duck, sir."

Nathaniel looks back to his wife, his face neutral but his eyes full of mirth. "That true, Wash?"

Almost instantly, Alicia feels an angry blush creep onto her cheeks without her permission. Her lips twitch as she tries to think of a reply, but the words won't come. She purses her lips again.

Instead of answering, she decks Jim in the face, sending him falling to the floor with a yelp, clutching his nose.

She stares down at him for a few seconds, a triumphant look on her face, before turning to Nathaniel. He's smirking at her. She scowls at him.

"I _do not_ waddle, Nathaniel."

He shrugs, "Never said you did."

She glares harder, his smirk widens, and Jim lets out a groan from the floor.

"I'm going home." She mutters, storming toward the door. He turns and lets her exit, snickers when he hears her mumble, "And I _don't_ waddle."

Nathaniel watches her leave, bites back a laugh when he sees the wobble in her step. He manages to hold in his laughter until she's out of earshot.

Chuckling to himself, he turns to find Shannon standing, still clutching his now bleeding nose, but a smile on his face and in his eyes.

Bloody (and probably broken) nose and all, he regrets nothing.

He says his next words with a childish sense of pride, "I call it the Wash Waddle."


End file.
